Traditions
by Schizzar
Summary: John doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with this year, so he asks if Sherlock would celebrate with him. Sherlock doesn't understand why celebrating the holiday is such a big deal, but if he is going to do so, he is going to make sure every tradition is followed.


**This is another gift fic for a friend. Just some fluffy, sappy, Johnlock for your holiday season. Happy New Year! I don't own Sherlock. Enjoy. Reviews are always loved. **

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because, John, such traditions are entirely useless and I simply refuse to engage in such trivial activities. Besides, I have no one to celebrate it with, not really."

John opened his mouth to retort, but as his brain caught up with what Sherlock had said, he paused. "Sherlock, you have plenty of people to celebrate with. Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson...me."

Sherlock didn't look up from whatever experiment he was doing at the dining table, instead just waving a hand dismissively in John's general direction. "That's hardly celebrating. That'd be the four of you having a jolly old time and going silent when I say something that isn't 'socially acceptable' or some rubbish like that. Really, no time at all for it."

John felt a bit like he had been punched in the stomach at the last bit, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Sherlock was right of course. He often did say things that were offensive without realizing it, or maybe he did realize it and just didn't care, and saying such things on Christmas...would be somewhat disastrous.

"How about just the two of us celebrate Christmas then?" John asked. "No pressure then."

"I am not feeling any anxiety about celebrating Christmas with a multitude of people. I would just rather not celebrate Christmas at all," Sherlock said firmly.

"But I want to, and I would like it if you would celebrate with me. It doesn't have to be anything huge," John said. "Just a movie, some hot chocolate, exchange gifts. No big deal."

"If it will get you to leave me alone, fine," Sherlock said. He pulled away from the microscope, heading for the refrigerator to grab something John was probably happier not seeing.

"Good," John said, clasping his hands together. He got to his feet, glancing around the apartment as an awkward air settled over them. "I'll be off then. Christmas shopping and all that."

Sherlock gave a non-committal noise and returned to his experiments.

-.-

John wasn't sure what to get Sherlock, and it was of the utmost importance that whatever he got the man was absolutely perfect. He had to prove to the man that Christmas was worth celebrating, which was a good sentiment and all, but he was clueless on what to get the man.

Well, not entirely clueless. He knew whatever it was, it would have to be practical. Sherlock didn't put much stock into things that only had a sentimental value. Books would be a good present, but predictable. John would have to get him something he wouldn't guess, but would still be useful. He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued down London's busy streets, glancing into the windows of shops only half-heartedly.

Not really paying attention, he drifted into a random shop, pausing when the store clerk greeted him.

"Hi! Doing some last minute Christmas shopping I take it?" the woman asked. She was overly perky, and her cheery voice was somewhat grating as she smiled a too fake smile.

"Uh, yes," he said, edging back a bit. "Just shopping for a friend, he's quite practical and has no use for anything that he can't actually use, you know."

"Oh, my boyfriend is just like that," the girl said, twirling a finger around a lock of brown hair. "I bought him a scarf once, but he was just like: I don't need this, this has no use, why would you buy me this, and we didn't talk for nine days."

"That...I am so sorry to hear that, I'll just be going now," John said, opening the door back up and easing out of it.

"Alright, have a nice day!"

"Yes, thank you, you too." John shook his head as he continued down the street, thinking over what the girl had said. For all of her...oddities, she had made a good point. Sherlock would scoff if he bought something that could _possibly, _at _some point_, _maybe,_ be useful, but if John got something he could use all the time, he'd be downright impressed. If it were possible to impress a man like Sherlock Holmes.

He smiled. He knew just the thing.

-.-

John had bought them one of those small fake trees to set up on the end table, and spent the afternoon decorating it. Sherlock continued his experiments, but after some poking and prodding, John was able to get the taller to place a few ornaments on the tree. Soon after though, Sherlock had vanished with John's laptop, emerging only to grab his coat and dash out the door, a quick promise escaping his lips that he would return soon.

Normally on Christmas Eve, John went to visit his sister, but given that they had parted on less than desirable circumstances, he was free to spend the evening with Sherlock. The detective had his usual petulant pout on his lips most of the day, but eventually, he seemed to warm up to the idea.

Which led to now, with Sherlock sitting across from him on the couch. The pout was still on his lips, as if determined to stay as proof that while Sherlock was indulging John's whims, he still did not approve.

"So what is next for your traditions, John?" Sherlock asked.

"We exchange gifts," John said, standing up and moving to where he had placed his wrapped gift under the table. When he turned back towards Sherlock, he was surprised to see a small gift sitting on the man's lap, pulled from seemingly nowhere. He paused before sitting back down. "You...got me something."

"Yes. I heard it was appropriate to do this," Sherlock said.

"You...you didn't know that people exchanged gifts on Christmas?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I purposely forgot any information pertaining to holiday traditions. It was useless and I needed to make room for more important things," Sherlock said with a shrug.

"Right." John supposed he should be used to Sherlock's oddities by now, but every once in awhile the man managed to blind-side him. "Well, here you are."

Sherlock held his gift out as well and they traded, unwrapping their gifts in silence. When the paper fell away, John was looking down at an old journal, battered and worn, the pages frayed and yellowed. Frowning a bit, he undid the clasp and opened it up.

"This is the journal of Ethan Wells," John said quietly. "An army doctor during WWII. One of the best. Where...where did you get this?"

"It was in my collection. It had useful things within it, but I memorized it all a while ago. I figured it is of more use with you now," Sherlock said.

John looked up, something in his chest tightening. "Thank you, Sherlock, really this...I did not expect something like this."

"Just because I appear socially stunted and seem incapable of appreciating things of sentimental value does not mean I am blind to others' appreciation of such things," Sherlock said. "And thank you, John. For not buying me something frivolous and useless." He held up the new microscope John had bought him, top of the line. It had cost more than John should have probably spent on a man he sometimes doubted even liked him. "This is much better than what I've been working with."

"You...you like it?" John asked. He didn't dare believe it.

Sherlock's pout finally twisted up into the smirk John knew so well. "Yes John. I do like it. Quite a bit actually. Thank you."

John smiled. "Good. I...was worried."

"You rarely disappoint me John. You shouldn't have worried."

John set the journal aside, beneath the small tree, then took the microscope from Sherlock to place on the kitchen table. "Well, we have a few more traditions we need to work through." He didn't want to think too hard about the praise Sherlock had given him. He almost suspected there was an ulterior motive to it all.

"You are still worrying," Sherlock said.

"Not now, Sherlock, please." John moved to the cabinets, managing to find two clean mugs.

To his surprise, Sherlock left him in peace as he went about making them both hot chocolate. He still didn't say anything when John returned with the mugs, instead accepting his with a nod of thanks and sipping at it delicately. "I assume you are spending Christmas Day with Harry?"

"Ah, no," John said, stirring his hot chocolate a bit more before sipping it as well. "We are not exactly on speaking terms at the moment and thought it would be best to spend the holidays apart."

"Is there not usually a large dinner of some kind on Christmas Day?"

"Yes, usually," John said. "But I won't make this experience any more painful for you than it already is." He smiled a bit at that as he met Sherlock's eyes.

"No, it's alright. I will see if Mrs. Hudson can cook us all something. I'll clear off the table," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, why would you do that?"

"Perhaps I have found," Sherlock began, lowering his mug so he could look at John. "That I have been depriving you of things you are used to having, and I would like to make it up to you."

John frowned as he thought about what Sherlock said, eyes sliding away from the detective's. They finished their drinks in silence, and then John carried both mugs to the sink, rinsing them and setting them down to be washed in the morning. He didn't hear Sherlock sneak up behind him, starting as his heart raced when he turned and had Sherlock pressed against him.

"Uh, Sherlock, what...what are you doing?" John asked, crooking an eyebrow as he looked up at him. Something hovered in between him, and his eyes widened as he realized what it was. "Is that...mistletoe?"

"Yes John, how astute of you," Sherlock said, his gaze burning into the doctor's as he lowered the plant to sit on the counter. "It is a Christmas tradition, is it not? The two people under the mistletoe must kiss for some mundane reason or another."

"True but, Sherlock, that's a tradition we didn't necessarily have to keep up with," John said, trying to beat down his own flushing.

Sherlock's lips were twisting into the insufferable smirk John both hated and loved. "But you know me John. I strive for perfection."

And then those smirking lips were pressed against his, and John's belly felt warm. Without really thinking, he brought his hands up to cradle Sherlock's jaw, dragging him closer as their lips slid together, wet and hungry. It was as if it was something he always wanted, but hadn't known he wanted until it was presented to him. Sherlock's hand rested on his cheek, long fingers trailing down over his neck as the kiss deepened.

"Sherlock," John whispered as they parted. Their lips still hovered a mere centimeter from each other. "Why?"

"Because I've wanted to kiss you for awhile, and this celebration of yours provided me with the perfect opportunity to do so," he said simply. "May I kiss you again, John?"

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck as their eyes met once more. "Oh God, yes."


End file.
